


All That Really Counted

by voidlols



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:08:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5673883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidlols/pseuds/voidlols
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Imagine your OTP in bed after a fight, facing away from each other. They both begin to feel guilty about the quarrel, and roll over to apologize… at the same time. They do it so abruptly that they bump their heads together. After being dazed for a few moments, they giggle and kiss, twining their legs together and snuggling. They quietly murmur their apologies and endearments to each other until they fall asleep." based off of this tumblr prompt. (<a href="http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/86460755006/imagine-your-otp-in-bed-after-a-fight-facing-away">x</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That Really Counted

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i saw that imagine and i just had to make it phan bc cmon dan and phil are so in sync that theyd totally do that. so that’s basically the story haha oh also its in no way accurate to irl events other than the whole 2012 thing that happened between them bc thats an integral part to the story...but everything else is just made up by me~ i hope you enjoy!
> 
> [read on tumblr if you like](http://howellaesthetics.tumblr.com/post/136915877352/all-that-really-counted)

_Ugh._

That one word generally summed up Dan’s mood at the moment. Here he and Phil were, at some hotel in California, stonily facing away from each other on opposite ends of the bed because of a petty fight. They were at bloody _Vidcon,_ for fuck’s sake, could this really not wait until later?

Well, to be fair, Dan played as much a part in this as anyone. As always. It was just—he couldn’t stop. He was still getting used to the notion of actually liking Phil again, of actually treating him like a friend (or more) instead of his weird and annoying flatmate who for some reason wouldn’t leave. It hadn’t even been a year since they’d made up from that, and…to be honest, it was proving to be a lot more difficult to leave behind that attitude than Dan had first thought.

_Old habits die hard,_ he mused bitterly to himself. 

And that, he supposed, is what had gotten them in this position in the first place. Dan’s awkward shuffling away from Phil, then shuffling back again when Phil shot him a look, and then shuffling away again when Phil turned his back. Part of Dan’s head still screaming all of his old words, all of his stupid _“We are separate people!”_ comments, all of the, _“We’re platonic friends! P-L-A-T-O-N-I-C!”_ posts, all of the…admittedly hurtful words. Hurtful to Phil. Hurtful to the one who knew they weren’t—or at least hadn’t been—true. And they just wouldn’t stop coming back. He was too used to it. Too used to thinking that if he didn’t cut himself off from the weird, unnatural, unique, incredible person next to him, that he’d cease to be the MVP, that he’d cease to be the independent and _successful_ creator he wanted to be.

So, he fell back into it, at least for today. At Vidcon. The fans noticed, Phil noticed, it seemed like the whole bloody vicinity had noticed Dan’s sudden change in demeanor, when his jokes stopped being harmless and began sounding more like sarcastic insults from a person with a superiority complex, all of it directed at his unsuspecting partner, aka, Phil. The fans looked uncomfortable, and their manager had groaned and stepped forward, ready to close the meet and greet. And Phil. Phil’s expression hadn’t changed.

Except for the sudden shadow over his face when it first started, Phil’s persona hadn’t changed at all. That only encouraged Dan to continue on…as it had last year, too. Sometimes Dan wondered if he’d have dragged it on for so long if Phil had shown that he was more obviously upset. 

…He probably would have.

Either way, though, thanks to Phil’s smooth responses and essential glossing over the fact that Dan was being an enormous twat to him, the meet and greet had continued smoothly and hadn’t had to be stopped short by their poor manager. Dan sometimes felt bad for her having to keep up with their emotional issues as well as their work-related ones. 

When the day had neared its end, Dan and Phil had found themselves walking, alone, back to their hotel. It was quiet, which wasn’t entirely abnormal for them, but this silence had been different. It had been almost…static-y. It was the type of quiet that was filled with _dis_ quiet. Dan had known something was wrong. And he hadn’t had to think long to guess what it was. 

“Hey…” He began, suddenly feeling a little bad, but before he could continue, Phil’s sharp voice had cut in. 

“What, going to insult me again? Going to mock something else I do to get a few cheap laughs from your adoring crowd of spectators?” 

Dan had been stung. His steps had faltered for a moment, and when he tried to catch Phil’s gaze, he’d realized that Phil was looking stonily ahead. 

Not good.

“Look, I…You know how I get, Phil, I’m just not quite used to—“ 

“To what?!” Phil had burst out, whirling around and stepping loudly in front of Dan, stopping him in his place. “Not used to treating me like a _decent person_ would? Is that it? Danisnotonfire?”  
Dan had felt himself cringe even as a swirl of anger lifted from his stomach. That had become a sort of sick inside joke between them—if it could even be called a joke anymore, that use of his Youtube username instead of his actual name. It had first sprung into being when the fans had, for some reason, began distinguishing between the two—between “Dan Howell” and “danisnotonfire.” Phil came across it first, and he had thought it was funny for a while, and used it when Dan did something exceptionally awkward or worthy of a story on his main channel. But over the course of 2012, it had become a bitter reminder of the spiky wall in between them, when Phil coldly called him “danisnotonfire” more than “Dan.”

Dan had hated it then, and still hated it now. And he’d been mad that Phil had decided to bring it up now, and dredge up all the memories that came with it. 

“Okay, first of all, you can fucking _relax,_ Phil, I was _trying_ to explain myself—“ 

“I don’t want you to explain yourself, Dan! I want you to stop! I want you to stop treating me like some weird guy you’re forced to hang around by association! I thought we were over this!” Phil had cut through (again), his angry blue eyes staring straight into Dan’s stubborn soul. 

“Well it’s not just going to _stop!_ ” Dan had burst out, annoyed and defensive and fucking _tired,_ taking a step towards Phil and thrusting his nose in his face. “I spent a whole fucking year like that, it’s going to take me more than five months to be—to be—“ 

“To be _you,_ Dan! You’re not this mean! You’ve never been this mean, not until last year, and especially not to _me_ —“ Phil had cut himself off abruptly, looking away and angrily wiping at his eyes. Dan stared at him in shock. 

“Are you _crying?!_ ” He’d said in shock, and realized a second too late how absolutely _rude_ that sounded. Before he could say anything to amend, however, Phil had lifted his head and given him an icy stare, eyes dotted with tears and cheeks slightly damp. Dan had felt absolutely horrible, but his pride had prevented him from saying anything. 

“You know what—go back to the hotel room yourself. I’m going to—somewhere. I’m going to somewhere that you’re not, and you can go back to the hotel, and—and something will happen after that. I’m just going to go. And maybe you can sort yourself out,” Phil had said, slowly backing away with every word. Dan hadn’t said anything, hadn’t trusted himself to say anything, and he’d stood there, frozen, until Phil’s hunched shadow disappeared into the moonlight. 

He had continued the walk back to the hotel by himself, alone with his festering anger and defensive thoughts, and something that he refused to identify as loneliness. 

And that’s how Dan got to where he was now. Phil had returned at about one am, and Dan could hear him pause at the door from where he feigned sleep in the bed. Probably wondering if he should take the couch or risk slipping under the covers. Dan found he didn’t much care. 

Phil apparently decided to take the bed, laying as far away from Dan as he could get without falling off. They slept back to back, and Dan had the sneaking suspicion that Phil was faking sleep as much as he was right about now. 

Listening to Phil’s breathing, though, Dan was reminded (again) of last year. Of sleeping alone, for the first time in a really, _really_ long time, and how much he had hated himself for driving Phil away, and how much he had hated himself for hating himself, and how much he had just wanted someone next to him, to stop the darkness in the room from getting into mind. 

Phil had stopped it. And, even now, despite himself, Dan found a strange calm settling over him just knowing that Phil was in the bed too. Maybe he should give a name to the feeling. The “Phil Lester Affect.” 

Anyways. 

Dan felt the pent up anger and defensive nerves seeping out of him, slowly, to be replaced with a voice that said gently, _“You need to apologise.”_ Dan should be grateful that Phil would even want to get in the bed with him now, after the hell he had put him through. Dan wasn’t sure if he would have gotten in the bed with himself. He probably wouldn’t have. 

The more he thought about the day’s events, the more he wanted to curl into himself in shame. Really, why did he feel the need to put Phil down like that? To make himself look better? To bridge even more of a gap between them? Stupid. They were over that now. All of that had been sorted one dramatic night in March. 

And then, instead of deciding to apologise, he had gotten all defensive, pulling the whole, “You don’t understand!” card. Pathetic.  
He was going to apologise. Right now. He wouldn’t let this sort of stupid fight cause another rift between them. Not when they had just patched up the other. 

So, stealing himself, Dan twisted his body and rolled over, already planning out what he would say. Yes, he’d start out first by apologising, to rectify his earlier mistake—

“Phil—“ 

“Dan—“ 

Dan jerked back in surprise as his nose was met with another lump, which turned out to be _Phil’s_ nose. Dan couldn’t hold back his grin at the thought that, oh god, they spend so much time together that even their thoughts are in sync. 

Phil, even though Dan could see that he was trying not to, let out a small chuckle before adopting a solemn look. Dan knew what he was about to say, and rushed to say his part before Phil could. 

“Look—don’t apologise, Phil, it’s—it’s not your fault. You did nothing wrong. It’s me, as always, so…I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I started being like that to you again, and then tried to defend myself instead of apologising, it’s just that sometimes I feel like—I feel like I _have_ to, which is obviously complete bullshit, because you’re literally perfect and I don’t know why anyone would have to be rude to you, but I’m an idiot with an inferiority complex and sometimes I just—I’m sorry, Phil. I’m sorry.” 

Phil had remained silent throughout Dan’s spiel, but his expression had progressively softened back into the light and feathery one he usually wore when he was around Dan. As Dan finished, Phil’s hand—still under the covers—felt around until it reached Dan’s hand, which was then promptly entwined with Phil’s.

“It’s okay,” Phil said, nodding in confirmation, as if his words weren’t enough. “I’m sorry too. I know it’s probably hard for you, and I’m sorry I haven’t tried to understand where you’re coming from as much as I should. You spent a year being like that, I can’t expect you to just forget all of it within a few months. I’m sorry about my reaction; next time I’ll try to help you through it instead of yelling at you.” 

_You’re too good for me,_ Dan thought, a soft smile spreading across his features. He leaned forward, kissing Phil slowly, sweetly, hoping to reinforce the apology he just gave, and show his gratefulness at how kind Phil was being to him. When he didn’t have to. When he probably shouldn’t have been.

“I love you,” Dan said once he was done kissing Phil. He only leaned back far enough so that he could talk; otherwise their faces were very nearly still pressed together. Phil smiled, a disgustingly soppy, happy smile that Dan never wanted to go away. Dan was willing to bet that Phil had a light blush on his cheeks too, but since it was so dark, he couldn’t tell. 

“You have no idea how much I missed you saying that last year, Dan,” Phil sighed, nuzzling his nose onto Dan’s in some sort of clumsy butterfly kiss. He’d said that before—that he’d missed Dan’s declarations of love—but Dan had still not gotten used to the pang of sadness he felt every time with the knowledge that he had wasted a year hating Phil when he could have been loving him. 

In response, Dan scooted closer to Phil, twining their legs together and wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist. 

“I won’t make you worry about me not saying it anymore,” Dan promised, tightening his grip around Phil. Phil reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Dan in turn, murmuring endearments and “thank you”’s and the whole bloody romantic script so much that Dan thought his heart would burst.

They may not be perfect, but…at least they were trying. And in the aftermath of 2012, that’s all that really counted.


End file.
